


An Unexpected Party

by JackQuaker



Series: Hobbit Shorts (or as they call them, Trousers) [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Erebor Never Fell, But the Shire did, Gen, Role Reversal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 15:54:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14405472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackQuaker/pseuds/JackQuaker
Summary: “I’m looking for someone to share in an adventure.”“An adventure?  I’m sure we have a younger lad or two who might indulge you.”“One of the younger lads, eh?  To think I would live to see the day that Thorin of the line of Durin should sit back like an old gaffer when glory is on the line.”Thorin took several deep pulls from his pipe.  “I have heard enough of glory to know it does not come without a price.  I have responsibilities and can not just run off at the whim of a wizard.”An Unexpected Party Role Reversal





	An Unexpected Party

**Author's Note:**

> A while back I was suffering from writer's block and asked my friend to give me a quick prompt. She asked for a rewrite of the unexpected party but with role reversal. I was not quick in filling the prompt but I'm happy with it.
> 
> All the thanks to my dear Ashleigh who gave me the prompt and beta'd it for me!

Thorin puffed contentedly on his pipe, blowing lopsided smoke rings into the soft breeze. He was a dwarf’s dwarf, make no mistake, and felt safest within the depths of his mountain but even he enjoyed the occasional quiet moment beneath the sun. It was a warm spring day. He had come out to greet the returning patrol and see off his sister-son, Kíli on his first round. There had been little fuss, knowing it wouldn’t be appreciated, but inside Thorin rebelled at the idea that Kíli was of age. Now, alone in the sun with only the distant sound of cattle, he idly wondered where the years had gone.

The warm sun and soft sounds lulled Thorin into a near meditative state. He was just beginning to doze when a change in the light pulled him from his rest. Thorin opened his eyes to see a grey shadow looming over him and on instinct reached for his sword.

“Peace Thorin, son of Thrain. I mean you no harm.”

Thorin rubbed at his eyes to try and make them focus and squinted at the old man. “Who are you?”

“Who am I? Who am I?” The man seemed to grow and darken. “To think I would live to be who-are-you’d by the grandson of Thror.” At Thorin’s continued blank stare, he sighed. “I am Gandalf and Gandalf means me.”

A memory sparked from his youth. “Tharkûn. What brings you to Erebor?”

“I’m looking for someone to share in an adventure.”

“An adventure? I’m sure we have a younger lad or two who might indulge you.”

“Some of the younger lads, eh? To think I would live to see the day that Thorin of the line of Durin should sit back like an old gaffer when glory is on the line.”

Thorin took several deep pulls from his pipe. “I have heard enough of glory to know it does not come without a price. I have responsibilities and can not just run off at the whim of a wizard.”

Gandalf gave him a hard stare. “You have changed Thorin, from the dwarfling I knew.”

“I have grown up, Tharkûn, as we all must do.”

“Must we?” Gandalf pondered Thorin for a moment longer. “Well, that’s decided. It will be very good for you, and most amusing for me. I shall inform the others.”

“What? Inform who? No! I do not what any adventures. Go try somewhere else.” Not giving the wizard time to respond, Thorin hurried back into the mountain. “Keep him out.” Thorin murmured to the sentries as he walks past.

The relaxing effect of his pipe break undone, Thorin decided he might as well get work done. 

After several hours spent productively with paperwork and meeting with some of the ministers, Thorin made his way home tired but satisfied and without any thought to his earlier visit with Gandalf. His quarters were more modest than one might expect from a crown prince. The dwarves of Erebor were rich. Almost ridiculously so; but after his grandfather’s madness Thorin found he had lost his taste for the ostentatious. Still, he was a dwarf and proud of his craftspeople and so while simple, the architecture was without flaw in his rooms and superbly furnished. Most importantly to Thorin, they were comfortable and his alone so that he could come home to peace and relaxation after a long day such as this one. They were his sanctuary. 

Thorin was feeling quite relaxed as he sat down to dinner that evening. Unfortunately that feeling was short lived. Before Thorin could take his first bite he was interrupted by a knock. Grumbling lightly he made his way to the door. All thoughts ceased when he saw what was on the other side. 

Thorin had learned about hobbits when he had studied the races of Middle Earth as a child. There had been only one chapter devoted to the smallest race and he remembered it being frustratingly lacking in details. Mostly he remembered that they lived in holes and were even more insular than dwarrow. Despite the lack of information, and having never seen one in the flesh before, this was definitely a hobbit on his doorstep. 

“Hello.” Said the creature cheerfully. It was short, even shorter than Ori, and round in the middle. The feet were large and hairy with no shoes and small pointed ears peaked out of a riot of dark curls. “I’m Frodo Baggins of Bag-End. I brought a casserole. I hope you like green beans.”

“Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thrór, at your service.” Thorin said automatically taking the dish offered. He still did not believe his eyes. 

“Well met.” Frodo said, slipping in through the small space between Thorin and the doorway easily. “Is that dinner I smell? He promised food.”

“What? Who?”

“Why, Gandalf, of course.” By this time Frodo had followed his nose to Thorin’s dinner and was looking at it with surprise and a bit of disappointment. “This won’t do. Hardly enough for one hobbit let alone a party.”

“A party?!” 

Frodo turned to look at Thorin. “Have you got a kitchen?”

Thorin pointed before he really knew what he was doing. “Wait! What do you mean party?” He hollard after the hobbit. 

“Just an expression. Obviously it won’t be an actual party, we’ve not had enough time to plan.” Frodo answered as another knock came from the door. “You should probably go answer that.”

Not quite knowing what else to do Thorin made his way back to the front door, dropping off the casserole as he went. It was another hobbit, this one blond. “Hallo, Samwise Gamgee,” he greeted. 

“Thorin.”

Samwise beamed. “It’s real nice to meet you sir. I brought potatoes. I wasn’t sure if you prefer scalloped or mashed so I brought both.”

“Sam, is that you?” Frodo came up from behind Thorin. “Sam!”

Thorin had no choice but to take the dishes shoved at him as Sam and Frodo appeared to enjoy a warm reunion with lots of hugs and laughter and talking over each other. Thorin just watched bemusedly. 

“That’s a lovely sight, that is.” Came a voice near his shoulder. He looked over to see two more hobbits, one lighter than the other though both obviously related and taller than the others. “They’ve not seen each other for the better part of a year, you know?”

“Who are you two then?” Thorin asked, wondering what strange world he was suddenly in where hobbits showed up on his doorstep bringing food. And now that he thought of it, how’d they get past the guards? They would have had to walk by three sets at least between the mountain entrance and Thorin’s quarters. 

“I’m Meriadoc Brandybuck and this is my cousin Peregrin Took. Everyone just calls us Merry and Pippin though.”

“We brought mushroom pie.” This was placed on the dishes already in Thorin’s arms and the two ran off to join the other two. 

“Excitable fellows, I’ll admit, but a good sort, each one.” Gandalf said as he entered Thorin’s rooms with a conspiratorial smile. “And they never visit empty handed.”

“Tharkûn! What- why are there hobbits in my home?!”

“All in good time, my lad. Let’s see, Frodo, Samwise, Merry and Pippin. Hmm… we are one hobbit short.”

“He’ll be here.” Frodo spoke up. “He went to meet with the Thain first.”

Before Thorin could ask any more questions the hobbits wandered off to his kitchen and Gandalf followed. The dwarf found himself alone in his entryway, arms full of food, and completely lost as to what was going on.

Thorin briefly thought about calling his guard but considering how unsuccessful they’d been so far at keeping unexpected guest out, he didn’t have much confidence in their removal. Besides, he’d never get answers that way. Depositing the food on his table he stomped into his kitchen where a rather lot of noise was being made. There he found the hobbits in a flurry, stirring pots, browning meat, and chopping ingredients. It was more activity than his kitchen had ever seen before and all the while there was happy chatter and laughter. Gandalf stood in one corner sipping wine and watching everything with an amused look. Thorin opened his mouth to demand again what was going on but before he could a spoon, covered in delicious dark gravy, was shoved into his mouth. 

“What do you think? More salt?” One of the hobbits asked with a wide smile.

“I-”

“Try these carrots, let me know if they’re cooked enough.” Another hobbit said, pushing a fork into Thorin’s hand.

“Wha-?” Suddenly Thorin was being asked to taste-test a wide variety of foods and sauces. He hardly had a chance to get a word in, much less demand answers. And everything was so very delicious. 

“Would you like an ale?”

“I… no.”

“Probably wise.” Sam spoke up. “You know what they say-”

“Don’t go drinking with hobbits!” All four of them spoke up and before Thorin quite knew what was happening, they began to sing.

_‘Don't go drinking with hobbits_  
Sure you'll have a grand time all night long  
But if you're not used to drinking with hobbits  
You may not want to wake up at all 

_They were thoughtful and kind when they invited me to drink_  
A lone human among hobbitkind  
They bought me a half  
Then another and one more  
And told stories of days long gone by’ 

The song went on for another three versus with several repeats of the chorus. By the time it was over the hobbits had a feast laid out on his table, enough for twelve dwarrow, and Thorin was beginning to suspect he was actually dreaming. Knocking pulled Thorin from his bemusing. 

“He is here.” Gandalf said.

The wizard led the way to Thorin’s door and opened it to reveil yet another hobbit. This one was older than the others, firmly in adulthood, and golden in color. “Gandalf!” He cried happily. “I was beginning to wonder if I’d find the place. It’s like a rabbit warren in this mountain. I’m not sure I would have found it at all if it wasn’t for the mark on the door.”

“Mark? What mark?”

“There is a mark on your door.” Gandalf said. “I put it there myself. Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, allow me to introduce you to Bilbo Baggins, leader of our company.”

“A pleasure.” Bilbo said with a small bow. “It was very kind of you to host us. I brought a blackberry pie. Nothing much but it was a favorite of my mother’s and rather popular around the party tree.”

“Yes.” Thorin was not sure what Bilbo was talking about but the pie smelled delicious. 

“Well, now that we’re all here, shall we get started?” Gandalf offered.

“Oh yes, of course.” Bilbo agreed.

The first hobbit, Frodo, stepped forward. “We have everything ready, uncle. It’s all set up in the dining room.”

Within moments they all were set up around the dining room table and Thorin had a plate in front of him loaded with food. “Now are you ready to give some answers?” 

“Yes Bilbo,” Frodo said. “What did the thain say? Are the Tooks with us?”

Bilbo sighed. “No. They said if we were determined to do this then it would be our quest alone.”

“Quest?” Thorin interrupted. “You’re going on a quest?”

Gandalf pulled out a map and shoved enough of the food out of the way to lay it out on the table. “Far to the West, over ranges and rivers, beyond woodlands and wastelands, lie a land that was green and prosperous.”

“The Shire.” Bilbo finished, pointing to a spot west of the Misty Mountains and east of the Blue Mountains. “The lost home of the hobbits before we were driven from them and forced to wonder the realms of Middle Earth.”

“Birds have been seen flying back. The hills grow green again. The Lady is giving us signs it is time to return and take back our lands!” Merry said, bringing for cheers from his fellows. 

“Take them back from who?” Thorin asked.

“Orcs!” Pippin cried. “They came in the night, large and misshapen, screeching with blades and clubs and teeth.”

“Yes, I know what orcs are.”

“Well I’m not afraid!” Sam spoke up. “I’ll cook them a meal of iron right up the-”

“Yes, yes.” Bilbo interrupted. “We are, all of us committed but our way would be difficult with all of the clans behind us and we number just five.”

“You forget we have a wizard! He must have fought in lots of battles and killed lots of orcs!”

“Aye, but I still don’t fancy the odds of just walking into camp of thousands of orcs.”

“I may be able to help with that.” Gandalf pulled out another map, this one showing a maze of underground tunnels.

“It’s the great smials.” Bilbo breathed with obvious awe. Despite himself, Thorin leaned in to get a closer look. “How came you by this?”

“It was given to me by your great-great grandfather, Ferumbras Took, after they lost Bandobras and the Battle of Greenfields. As you see all the old smials were connected. These tunnels span the entirety of the Shire and will allow us to enter without notice.”

“Wouldn’t the orcs have found these tunnels?”

“They are sealed with dwarven doors, the secrets to which have been lost. We will need someone with stone sense to help us open them and travel through the tunnels without getting lost.”

“You need a dwarf.” Thorin spoke up.

“We do.” Bilbo looked intensely at Thorin. “Are you our dwarf?”

Thorin felt judged by that look. As though Bilbo’s gaze pierced into his core and measured his worth. Thorin refused to be the one to break eye contact. “No. I am sorry for your loss but no. I can’t leave.”

Around them the other hobbits gave cries of disbelief and Gandalf was scowling but Bilbo just nodded once. “We should eat. It would be a shame to let this food go to waste. If we might impose on your hospitality for a while longer we will be out at first light.”

The feast before him made Thorin feel perhaps more generous than he would have normally. “Yes, of course. That will be fine.”

“We thank you.”

The meal was a bit subdued after Thorin’s refusal to help but the hobbits rallied around the food and by the end were smiling and chatting away. Thorin himself stayed quiet, listening to the conversation but mostly eating as much food as his stomach could hold. These hobbits were magic in the kitchen and a small voice in the back of his mind was wondering if he couldn’t offer them a home here, in Erebor. After they had eaten their fill (which was all of the food surprisingly) the hobbits helped with the clean up and Thorin’s offer of individual guest rooms were turned down for sharing his single spare room. 

“Are you certain?” He asked Bilbo. “It would be no trouble to have individual rooms prepared.”

“That is kind but hobbits often sleep in groups while traveling. We have learned in our exile that there is safety in numbers.”

Thorin nodded though he was unsettled by the implications. “Very well then. I have some work to do but please make yourselves at home.” He didn’t really have any work to do but he thought they might like the privacy and Thorin himself felt the need to be alone and process the evening.

Unfortunately he didn’t have the opportunity to be alone for very long. “I remember a young dwarf who always was running off in search of adventure, who’d stay out late, come home trailing mud and stones and fireflies. A young dwarf who would have liked nothing better than to be a hero beyond the borders of Erebor. The world is out there, waiting for its hero.” Gandalf said as he entered Thorin’s study.

“I am not a child any more. I can’t just go running off into the blue. I am a prince of Erebor.”

“You are more than a prince, Thorin. More than the son of Thrain, grandson of Thror. You are son of Fris, who was a great warrior in her own right, and a formidable defender of those who could not defend themselves. She, and you, come from a long line of heroes; Belri Bloodaxe, Dortil Forkbeard, Nalim the Red. Perhaps it’s time to have a tale of your own to tell.”

“But you can’t promise that I’d be able to come back and tell it.”

“No. And if you do, you will not be the same.”

“I am sorry Tharkûn, I cannot go.” Thorin said and walked away.

Thorin was getting ready for bed when the hobbits began to sing. Dwarves still sang the old songs, of stolen homes and lost treasures. Their songs rang deep like the mines of their ancestors and rumbled like thunder on distant peaks. The hobbits’ song was unlike any he had heard though obviously it was one of mourning as well. They sang with softer voices, rolling consonants like fog over hills and their loss dripped like dew. It was alien to Thorin but familiar in story and while he and his people had long had a home Thorin couldn’t help thinking that these hobbits deserved to return to theirs.

And perhaps, just perhaps, he could be the one to help them.

**Author's Note:**

> The song the hobbits sing is Don't Go Drinking With Hobbits by [Marc Gunn](http://marcgunn.com/18-funny-irish-drinking-songs-and-st-patricks-day-festival/)
> 
> The names of Thorin's ancestors were inspired by the people from [this list](http://www.toptenz.net/top-10-toughest-viking-warriors.php)


End file.
